London Burning
by YunaDax
Summary: Helen and Gregory Magnus fight to save the Sanctuary during the London Blitz during World War 2
1. Chapter 1

She could hear the air raid siren in the distance, the incessant tolling a warning to all about what was to come. There'd been raids before, strikes on the city to instil fear into its occupants, but no-one had any idea what this one would hold.

" All the inhabitants are secure Father" Helen Magnus reported in her father's office after she'd completed the air raid lockdown. The abnormals were getting used to being ushered back to their habitats and secured behind steel and stone lest the bombers return. The Sanctuary was secure and ready, waiting for what they hoped would never eventuate.

" Thank you Helen, would you like some tea?" Gregory offered, indicating the seat opposite his desk and an unused teacup on the tea setting in front of him. The staff knew better than to supply only one cup, the father and daughter regularly sharing tea. Helen slipped into the offered chair, folding her legs underneath her and accepting the now full teacup.

" You seem troubled my dear" Gregory probed, sensing his daughters turbulent thoughts through her facial expression.

" Harry... he seemed more agitated than usual, and Gerald was refusing to go into his habitat. I have a feeling they know this raid will be different" Helen explained, unable to ignore the gnawing in her stomach. The tea helped settle her, to soothe her troubled mind. The air raid siren cut through the silence like a knife.

A dull droning could be heard in the distance, a constant drumroll of turbines and engines miles above the city. The sound grew closer, louder until one could wear they were overhead. Helen rose quickly and stepped over to the darkened window, a symbol of the enforced blackouts. She peeked through the dark window dressings and gasped.

" Bombers" She whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the dark shapes in the evening sky.

The planes came and left, raining the city with hundreds and thousands of small metal cylinders that exploded in phosphorescent fire as soon as they impacted. It sounded like a heavy hail, the sharp and loud 'ting' as they struck the iron rooves of London's buildings. Those with stone or tiled rooves were not so lucky, the incendiaries shattering the stone as though it were glass and raining down on whatever was underneath. Small fires broke out instantly, creeping through furnishings and wall coverings until it latched onto the buildings structure and began its work in earnest.

" What in heaven's name!" Gregory exclaimed as one of the incendiaries landed in front of them, piercing a hole through a weak point in the roof and plunging onto the floor of his office. They both stood transfixed by the flickering light before them before the hissing of the rug catching fire broke their trance.

Helen grabbed a tall vase full of stunning pink roses, yanking the flowers out and tossing them on the floor before stepping as close as she dared and emptying the slightly green water onto the fire. It subsided slightly, enough for her to take hold of the end of the large rug and roll it over the now small fire. Smothering it, cutting off its oxygen supply. She stood... hands trembling as the implication swept through the house. This was war.

" Dr Magnus! Fire!" One of the servants burst into the room, skidding to a stop before taking in the rolled up smoking rug. " Oh dear Lord, its everywhere!"

" Calm Percy, you mustn't call the fire department, they mustn't know what creatures we have here. Arm yourselves with hoses and buckets, let us save our home. Quickly now!" Gregory instructed, leaving Helen to deal with the smouldering rug on her own. She was more than capable to dealing with the more or less contained fire. Helen rushed to the kitchen, pulling out two buckets and filling them with as much water as she could carry. She stumbled back to her father's office, laden down with the heavy water, her skirt tangling around her ankles as the material dampened with the spills. What she wouldn't give for a pair of coveralls right about now.

Finally back in the office she put one of the buckets down and unrolled the now smoking rug. There must have been oxygen getting in there somewhere for the fire not to have been extinguished fully. As the rug stretched out again revealing its deadly cargo. The incendiary sputtered back to life with the influx of fresh air, the flames once again threatening to take hold.

" Not on my watch" Helen spat as she dumped the first bucket of water on the rug, returning the flames to a sizzling mess of charcoal and heat. She waited a moment before dumping the second bucket on it as well, ignoring the mess it was making on the carpet. She had no doubt the carpet would be the least of her father's concerns right about now.

Stepping back she surveyed her handiwork, watching the sizzling slow and cease as the chemical reaction slowed to a standstill. She had won this small battle, how many more of them were there?

The still slightly parted drapes caught her attention and she couldn't resist the alluring pull of the ghastly image peeking through the darkness. Everywhere fires were burning. London was burning. No blackout could have made any difference with half the city on fire, each building its own torch, a beacon to the Germans to return. One by one the city architecture that had stood for hundreds of years began to burn, the old oak timbers like kindling to the blaze, in turn burning brighter.

It was the beginning of the end.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In the two hours that followed the initial raid, the staff of the London Sanctuary were run off their feet. The building was swept from top to bottom in search of more incendiary bombs, the tell tale bright sparks a giveaway within the darkness of the stone building as the power failed, plunging them into complete blackness. Helen was completing a sweep of the storeroom when the distinct odour of burning timber alerted her to another problem. She followed her nose at first, the glow hidden by the stacks of stores packed tightly into the small room. They'd stocked up at the start of the War on essentials, thinking that supplies might, as they eventually did, run low. The stores however provided the fuel to the fire that was now beginning to spread quickly. Linen and fabric sizzled with an almost electric frenzy as Helen finally found the source of the heat now filling the small room.

" Dear Lord" She gasped as the saw the extend of the fire spreading, and knew she would be in for a rough time to contain this one on her own. Ducking back to the kitchen again she filled the two buckets, running as fast as she dared back to the storeroom, pausing only long enough to set one bucket down before launching her payload of water from the other towards the seat of the fire. The brightness dimmed momentarily and she took the opportunity to empty another load of water onto it. Instantly she was on the way back to the kitchen for another run. Two more trips ferrying buckets of water and she thought she had it just about done, stepping forward to empty some water on a particularly hot spot. A sizzle and the instant increase of heat, the smell of burning cotton and polyester shocked her. Her dress! The long skirt hem had caught in one of the embers and was now burning merrily, melting the fine fabric of her stockings in the process. Panic set in, and for an instant she let lose a shrill scream, unable to contain the horror of what was happening. Panic was quickly replaced with logic though as the situation grew dire, she grabbed the last half bucket of water and doused the burning fabric around her legs, wincing as the still hot edges touched her scorched skin. The skirt however was out, now once floor length number she was rather fond of sporting a ragged burnt edge that sat a little below her knees. Horrid, but until this crisis was over a skirt was the least of her problems.

Two more trips to the kitchen – plus a moment to splash some more water over the burns on her legs and the storeroom fire was out, plunging the corridor she was searching back into complete blackness.

" Damn this..." She spat angrily, heading over to the window and yanking the curtains wide. For a moment, she stood there, transfixed by the sight. St Pauls Cathedral stood like an angel among the many fires burning around London. Untouched and unscathed by the first raid, a shining symbol of hope to the people of the great city. Helen took comfort in the fact that the beautiful building was still standing before turning her attention back to the task at hand. She opened all the drapes as she passed them, the light of the city ablaze as good as any normal lighting that'd had installed. At least she could see where she was going now.

" Miss Magnus! Miss Magnus!"

Helen turned to see one of the servants running blindly down the corridor towards her, soot and ash covering every inch of his body.

" Miss Magnus, you must come quickly!" He grabbed the bucket from her hand and dragged her down the corridor, his urgency lending new pace to her already tiring legs.

They ended up in the habitat area, one of the most beautiful but dangerous creatures's habitat was on fire, with the creature trapped inside.

" Helen, thank goodness you're safe" Gregory gave his daughter a quick once over before realising that she was indeed still in one piece, more or less.

" The Sarcamore..." Helen gasped, listening in horror as the large winged creature shrieked in terror.

" We can't go in there..." Gregory started, reading his daughters' intentions as clearly as he read one of her texts.

" We have to do something, the smoke alone will kill it in a matter of minutes!" Helen retorted, surging forward to the habitat's control panel. The screeching intensified, it was terrified, making it all the more dangerous.

" Take cover!" She shouted, standing back as far as she could before yanking the control to open the habitat's main door.

Smoke billowed from the enclosure, the flames reaching new heights as the new oxygen flooded in. The Sarcamore billowed from the habitat, rolling in the hot smoke as it fought for altitude and clean air. Gregory and two servants took the opportunity to douse the fire, sending more smoke into the already thick air. Minutes later they emerged, filthy but victorious. There was no way however the beast was going back into its box.

" I say we lock down this area and deal with it later. Have the other enclosures been checked?" Helen asked, gesturing to the number of locked down rooms around the central core of the building.

" Yes, we couldn't find any more" Gregory replied, taking his daughters advise and heading out of the main lab before sealing the area off with a number of manual doors and heavy barricades. " That should hold it until we can deal with it"

Helen took a moment to catch her breath, leaning forward and resting her hands on her knees as she sucked in great lungfuls of relatively untainted air.

" Helen, are you alright?" Her father hovered anxiously, ignoring the dull droning that was beginning to build in the sky above them again.

" I just need a minute" She replied, her voice scratchy with the soot lining her throat. Her eyes squinted closed as tears struggled to clean the soot from the delicate tissue. They stung like blue murder, but she forced them open again. She waited until her breathing had recovered a little more before standing upright again, putting on her bravest face and facing her father.

" St Pauls is still standing. Score one for the Britians'" She quipped, leading the way back out to the corridor where she had seen the magnificent building amongst the city of fire beforehand.

" Well I'll be, will you look at that" Her father replied, awe struck in his voice. " They may bomb us, but they'll never break us" He said defiantly, his chin raising a little as the words had their full effect.

The droning continued, the air raid siren sounding again through the chaotic streets below them.

This time when the planes passed over the smoke filled skies of London, they weren't dropping fire, they dropped bombs.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

They said as soon as you hear the distinct whine of the descending bombs you knew if your number was on it. It the most unusual sound, a high pitched whine that's pitch gradually deepened as it neared its target. Helen instinctually ducked as the first bombs raced towards London, their target, the people of the city below them. Their goal – to inflict terror.

" My God" The elder Magnus swore, earning a reproachful look from his daughter for his use of language. Now was not the time to quibble about use of the Queen's English.

The bomb struck a warehouse up the street from them, demolishing the building in one foul swoop, adding to the carnage the fire was already causing. Screams echoed through the streets, cries for help, please for mercy.

" I must help them..." Helen whispered and rose to head downstairs to the street to render aid.

" Helen you mustn't. You're needed here. If the abnormal's escape..." His voice trailed off, his focus now drawn to another series of whines.

" But those poor people" Helen whispered, her eyes back on the street below and people fled from the already fallen bombs. More fire raged through the city, more bombs tumbled from the sky.

The Sanctuary was spared the first few waves of bombers, explosions ringing out in the night sky close, but never within the walls of the Sanctuary itself. Helen began to breathe a little easier. Perhaps this time they had been spared, perhaps there wasn't a bomb up there with her name on it. OR perhaps there was and her time was coming.

For a few minutes the air-raid sirens ceased, replaced only by the wails of the injured and dying in the streets. The poor people were terrified, which was exactly what Hitler wanted, Helen mused to herself. She kept her thoughts to herself though – not wanting to add unwanted tension to their already perilous situation. All they could do was wait, wait and see if their home would end up in the same smashed remnants of the warehouse just down the street.

Gregory had retreated back to the main habitats, several weapons and tools by his side ready to be used if the situation was unfortunate enough. He wouldn't risk any of the abnormal escaping, nor would he leave them to suffer if critically injured. This was war, as the Germans had decreed, and he was ready for the worst.

If Helen Magnus were to recall the memory of what were to happen next, she would have sworn the next whine to echo through the sky had a distinctly different sound to it. She had just abandoned the corridor with the windows when she heard it, the whine growing louder and deeper as it headed towards its target. Her. She grabbed an oil lamp from a table nearby and ran.

The next few moments blurred into obscurity as she bolted towards where her father had taken up a post, surrounded by whatever tools and weapons he would need to secure the abnormals, and if necessary, to dig himself out of a collapsed building should the worse come. She had to be near him, had to be with him if this were to be their end. Her flight seemed to take forever, seconds feeling like hours as the walls blurred passed, some still having retained their ornate wood panelling and velvet and gold leaf wallpaper, others charred and blackened from the previous attacks. The was going to be a serious amount of repairwork to be done when this was over. If they survived that was. Pushing that thought out of her mind for an instant she concentrated on pushing her body past its limit, to move faster, her heart pounding and lungs burning with each stride. Her legs ached as the lactic acid accumulated in the long strong muscles, protesting at the abuse but not able to resist her iron willpower. She was nearly there.

She could just make him out down one final corridor, the flickering candle the only light in the dim tunnel. The lighting had gone hours ago, and apart from the windows which cast a bright light of the city burning through the stone walled Sanctuary, the only lighting they had otherwise were candles and oil lamps.

" Father!" She yelled, her legs pumping as she ran towards him. 30 feet and she'd be there.

The explosion knocked her off her feet and send her flying, the breath knocked out of her lungs as the bomb smashed through the ceiling, exploding on impact as it hit the solid concrete floor. She had no recollection of hitting anything solid, nor the loud rumble of brickwork and timber as the wall collapsed on top of her. There was nothing except blackness.


End file.
